My dad loved wearing socks and sandals.
Yes, he was Dutch, but still.
It was his thing and he went everywhere like that. Shops. Braais. Family lunches. Absolutely anywhere. And I was mortified. Truly. I only begged that at the very least the socks matched the colour of the sandals and preferably didn't have holes in them, because he liked nothing better than pairing brown sandals with blue slightly threadbare socks. Who does that?
He won eventually. Socks and sandals simply became part of who he was.
And now, as I get older, I find myself wondering if comfort eventually wins for all of us. Not just in what we wear, but in how we move through life. Maybe as we mature we stop sweating the small stuff quite so much. Maybe we stop worrying quite so deeply about how people perceive us.
Because secretly, and only at home, and sometimes when in a hurry to the local shop, I wear socks and sandals now too.
Anyway, I digress.
Dads also collect things. Not proper collections. Just… dad collections. Drawers of mystery cables. Chargers to things long gone. Rubber bands. Cable ties. Old keys with no known purpose. Screws in coffee tins. Pens that may or may not work. Almost empty tubes of glue for fixing bicycle punctures.
And heaven help the person who throws any of it away.
"Keep that, it might still come in handy."
Looking back now, maybe dads don't collect random things at all. Maybe they collect solutions. Little systems only they understand. Bits and pieces gathered over years of fixing, helping, carrying and stubbornly preparing for every possible situation life might throw at them.
And somehow, despite the blue socks and questionable sandals, they usually turn out to be right.
Same same but better